Dancing on the Cinders
by willow afire
Summary: A different take on one beginning. It started with her wedding, and ended with the Arl's son dead on the flagstones. A look at all the little moments that fell in between.
1. She woke up

Warning: This is not your typical story but a tale told in pieces, written with an odd flare. The story is finished, and I hope to be updating every week with two to three chapters.

A big thanks to my betas. I couldn't have done it without you.

1\. She woke up

She woke up to smiles and gales of laughter. To helping hands, dancing feet, and a celebration of all it was to be a woman on her wedding day. The ache of her mother's absence was eased by aunts and grandmothers, neighbors and friends, turning her small abode into a dizzying festival. There was teasing and advice. Blushes and smirks. Quick sips of alcohol for courage. Bright sprigs of lavender scented the washing water and the whoops and hollers of the bridal party's horseplay echoed throughout the house.

An aunt, glittering eyes belying the stern set of her mouth, scolded the party into order. Amongst muffled giggles, dresses were shaken out, slipped and shimmied into. Hair was brushed, twisted, braided, and left down. Makeup was applied with many scoldings of "hold still!" and "I wouldn't get it in your eye if you would stop squirming." At the end, there was silence as they all stepped back to view their handiwork.

"I do believe you're beautiful." Her cousin smirked, her expressive eyes dancing.

She beamed "Of course I am. I am the bride!" 


	2. His love

Warning: This is not your typical story but a tale told in pieces, written with an odd flare.

2\. His love

In the peace left when everyone bustles out of the house she shares a small moment with her father. Gift-giving is not one of his strong suits, but his quiet awkwardness has an endearing quality. She is her mother's daughter and he finds her as baffling as she does him. But the wetness in his eyes as he watches her put on her mother's dancing boots, and the way he holds her after, leaves no doubt in her mind of his love for her.

She dances towards the door, spinning to show off the shoes, his laughter following her out of the house. She is light as a feather, buoyed up by excitement and the thought that at least a little bit of her mother will be with her on her wedding day.


	3. Slap

Warning: This is not your typical story but a tale told in pieces, written with an odd flare.

3\. Slap

She is vibrating with joy, and almost certainly dancing as she and Soris go to meet their intendeds. The square is a hub of activity, full of boisterous noise as people prepare for the wedding. Brightly colored strips of fabric flutter in the breeze, and mouth-watering scents tickle the nose. As they round the vhenadahl she spots her wedding party.

She almost breaks into a run but Soris holds her back, muttering about dignity. Maddi, dark skin like her own burnished in the sun, waves as Shianni bounces with excitement. Nola, ever demure, simply smiles as they approach.

She turns to Soris to tease him over his obvious apprehension when a loud commotion draws her attention back to her friends.

Nola's cry and the sound of a slap ring in the air. 


	4. Ice and fire

4\. Ice and Fire

Fear freezes her. It halts the air in her lungs, sends shivers up her spine, and holds her feet in place. Its frozen fist grips her heart. She cannot move, cannot act.

The shemlen prowls towards her cousins, his hard eyes predatory, face marred by a bright red mark in the shape of a handprint. He stops two paces from the small group. Shianni stands rigid in front of Nola's cowering form, eyes blazing and posture defiant. Head bowed, hands raised, Ailin speaks quickly, stuttering in a futile attempt to head off the shemlen's wrath. With barely a glance, the shem delivers a crashing blow that sends him sprawling to the floor, unmoving.

Now fear spurs her to move, to act. Ailin's name escapes her lips as fiery terror animates her. Soris's hand on her arm gives her pause, a brief moment of clarity. She cannot engage three and expect to be victorious.

Her choked outburst attracts the shem's attention. His quick glance lengthens as she draws his focus, and a crooked smile twists his mouth as he turns, Shianni's defiance forgotten. He stalks toward her, his smooth voice and casual lewdness raising the hair on the back of her neck. But his focus is on her now, not her cousins, and she can use the panic that is burning its way through her veins.

She opens her mouth to demand that he leave and never come back, but instead the voice that speaks is her fear under pressure, honed until it emerges like forged steel, cold and sharp.

The gathered shemlen laugh mockingly, and the predator in front of her demands to know if she knows to whom she speaks. She doesn't, doesn't know if it would matter at this point. She is on fire, and if she is to burn then they will burn with her.

It is taken out of her hands with a crash, and the shemlen falls unmoving at her feet Shianni standing over him, bottle in hand.

She stares at her cousin in shock, then down at the fallen man. His finery soiled by the mud of the alianage, a flash on his finger catches her eye. His companions are yelling, but she does not hear them as she crouches to look. The Arl of Denerim's coat of arms glints coldly back at her from his signet ring.

The ice returns creeping through her extremities to her core, quenching the fire. She meets her cousin's eyes and sees a frosted reflection of her dread.

Vaughn Urien, the son of the Arl of Denerim, lies unconscious in the filth.

Shianni gives voice to her fear "We are so screwed." 


	5. He is bright sunlight

5\. He is bright sunlight

The first time she sees him he is bright sunlight and cool water, a summer's day with blue skies and white fluffy clouds. He is warm like the blaze of a fire during the dark winter, solid in stature and presence like the vhenadahl that stands behind her.

She smiles at the silliness of such thoughts as they flit through her mind.

He is shy grins and soft eyes. Smooth voice and firm lips, broad chest, and strong arms; a feast for her eyes. He is nervous, and she is honest.

"Are you nervous?"

"I was until I saw you."

He is light to her dark, and she cannot help but feel her fear fade away.

"I'll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy."

He makes her forget the unconscious body of the Arl's son, and the retribution that is sure to follow. 


	6. A good man

6\. A good man

Butterflies dance through her stomach and up her throat. It is all she can do not to open her mouth and let them come bursting forth, their tiny rainbow wings flitting through the air.

He is beside her, this man of warm promises and quiet strength. He will always be beside her after this.

My husband.

She tries the words out in her mind, and can only smile.

Today I marry a good man.

The Chantry sister begins. 


	7. Crashing Down

7\. Crashing down

Her world crumbles when the shemlen round the corner and withers with each step of their armored boots. The taste of ash clogs her throat as the earlier butterflies are incinerated along with any hope for her wedding.

She had known there would be trouble when he awoke but this…this is so much worse then she imagined.

Pets he calls them, and she can see he thinks of them as no more than animals. He is a man proud of his perversions and this bestiality is perhaps his favorite.

He delights in picking his targets, in seeing the fear and helplessness in their eyes. As his gaze alights on each of his intended victims in turn, their futile attempts at resistance bring a satisfied smirk to his face.

Then the shem's attention is her's once more, "And see the pretty bride…"

Nelaros stands slightly in front of her, his hand entwined with hers. She does not know if she reached for him or he reached for her.

"I will not let them take you." He says.

And with his words her broken world narrows. There is no hope of victory here, and no real hope of escape. They are greatly outnumbered, and have no weapons, but in that instant it does not matter. He will not let them take her, and she will fight.

The shemlen towers over them now, his lust shining clear in his eyes and coating his words.

Nelaros stands firm but he is struck down and she stands alone with her future in tatters, burning slowly away.

"Let them go!" She demands, her fear-forged voice, strong and sharp, ringing in the square. "You have no right!"

He laughs at her audacity, and delivers a blow to her temple that sends her crashing to the floor and into unconsciousness. 


	8. She wakes up

8\. She wakes up

She wakes up to terrified faces, and sobbed prayers. To shaking hands, huddled bodies and the unspoken knowledge of all the abuses a woman can suffer at the hands of a man. The room is bare. The doors locked. Never has she felt so helpless.

The group is split: do they submit and spend the rest of their lives obliterating this night from memory; or do they risk fighting the horrors that are to come?

The door rattles as it is unlocked. 


	9. His eyes

Warning: Character death

9\. His eyes

The door opens and all she can see is his eyes. Their emptiness holds her frozen in place. A smile moves across the mask he wears to hide his barren wasteland of a soul, and sinks icy talons into her spine. He is an empty man, one who discarded his humanity long ago.

Nola surges to her feet, fluttering like a bird desperate to escape a cage. Her voice shrill and pricing,

"Stay away from us!"

Smoothly his sword slashes across her small form, slicing her open like a fish to be gutted. His eyes devoid of any feeling as she gags on her last breath.

Disposing of toys is part of his job.


	10. Nola is dead

Warning: Character death

10\. Nola is dead

Nola is dying.

Her skin waxen, midsection carved open, blood seeping onto the floor.

Her chest rattles and comes to rest, still and unmoving.

.

..

...

Her friend is dead.

Breath leaves her and she can't even cry.


	11. Frozen

11\. Frozen

She cannot hear his orders over the roaring in her ears.

Her body will not move. Her mind is unable to reconcile this corpse, skin fading to a sickening gray as it drowns in red, with the childhood friend who was laughing and smiling only a few hours ago.

She looks up once more and meets his pale, empty eyes. She knows she should do something. Something to stop him from taking Shianni; something to fight like her mother taught her; something to break his apathy and make him know, make him feel, exactly what he has done.

Nola is dead.

But she cannot. His scrutiny binds her with ice as the others are ushered out. At last he turns away, leaving her trembling and shaken, alone with the last two guards. 


	12. She retreats

12\. She retreats

She retreats woodenly as the two shem advance, every advantage rendered in their favor. They have size, strength, armor, and weapons. She has a rumpled wedding dress, and her mother's boots damp with Nola's blood. They leer at her, taking her retreat for passivity.

Which it is…and is not.

These men are not their captain, with his freezing gaze, and as Nola's blood seeps into her shoes she feels a spark flicker in her heart. It flares as the shem share a joke at her expense, its heat invigorating.

Nola's fate overshadows her and the others. Likely they will not live to see dawn. But these craven, blight-brained shemlen are not going to take her again. Not with out a fight.

Author's note: I upload multiple chapters at once. The story does jump around but if you feel like you've missed something you might have skipped a chapter.


	13. There is a noise at the door

13\. There is a noise at the door

There is a noise at the door, so soft it almost doesn't register. She would not have noticed it if the two shem hadn't looked towards the sound.

Soris, her cousin, stands there, with eyes wide as he looks at the scene before him. Her heart skips a beat, and she almost laughs at the absurdity of it her gut twisting; cautious Soris, timid Soris, sneaking into the Arl's palace. He clumsily clasps a sword in his hands, his inexperience obvious. The guards taunt him, turning to address the new "threat", their backs to her.

He watches them shakily and she knows he wants to run, but her eyes widen as she sees the sword begin to move in his hands.

Author's note: I upload multiple chapters at once. The story does jump around but if you feel like you've missed something you might have skipped a chapter.


	14. The sword clatters

14\. The sword clatters

The sword clatters nosily as it slides towards her across the floor and she and the guards can only stare, stunned by Soris's dubious genius.

The spark in her heart ignites into a blaze and she is bending, her fingers reaching, grasping, and locking around the hilt, a smooth fit in her hand. As the guards finally begin to react, she glides to her feet, liquid fire infusing her limbs as the blade darts up, whirling and piercing. Each of her hits marked by sanguine drips and streams. She floats in the fire, a dervish of spinning steal and ebony hair.

It ends almost too soon, as both shem, stagger, plummet, and sprawl to the ground, dead. 


	15. She descends

15\. She descends

She descends from the flame as the moment ends, leaving her staring at the carnage she has wrought. Her stomach clenches at the heavy smell of blood, and she loses the fight. Up comes the traditional wedding breakfast her aunt had prepared.

Staring at the mess splattered on the flagstones she starts to shake. She had practiced with her mother's swords when the woman had been alive. But she never used them, never seen her mother use them. Elves who carry blades in the alienage die on them.

Nothing had prepared her for the feel of the blade cutting flesh, the horrible smell of death, and the wetness splattered on her face and clothes. Reaching up she wipes off her cheek, and stares down at her blood on fingers.

Her eyes track to the three sprawled forms on the floor; the ruby liquid pooling from them mixes together, guilty and innocent.

If justice were present in the world it would be possible to tell the difference between them.

But, events of the day have proved just how unjust the world is. Instinctively her mind draws back from such thoughts. She cannot succumb to grief.

The day is not over

Turning she faces Soris


	16. Sacrifice

16\. Sacrifice

Her cousin crushes her to him, emotion straining his words. "I was so worried."

She rests her forehead on his shoulder. Its all the solace she can allow herself if she is to continue and not collapse. "You came in time—you saved me." She squeezes him, before pulling away to meet his eyes. There is a strain in them she's not used to seeing.

He looks past her to the mess on the floor. "There's no going back after this, is there?" He asks bleakly.

Her hand clenches the borrowed sword's hilt. It is against the law to kill a human in defense of an elf. The punishment for such a crime is death.

Her fate is decided; she will die.

But she does not feel the icy touch of fear at the thought. With such certainty a whole range of possibilities expand before her eyes.

"No, there's no going back after this." He returns his gaze to her and she meets his eyes again. "Not for me."

He grimaces and she hugs him. Her timid, brave cousin, and whispers in his ear, "But we can save the others."

He smiles at her, a quick flash across his strained face. "Always the optimist.

Her lips twitch in reply. "What's ahead will be much worse. Are you ready for this?"

 _Am I ready for this?_

Though his lips are tight and his eyes wide, his gaze is steady.

"I am."

Pride blossoms in her chest, and fear.

 _I will save you too, if I can cousin._

She will be a willing sacrifice. Walking with full knowledge into the pyre that will be her death, but the flames will not take her alone. All those that stand between her and her kinswomen will burn with her.


	17. She is an elf maid

17\. She is an elf maid

To the world she is an elf maid and all that entails, demure, unassuming, quiet, and small. She is a child, her opinion is not asked, and her advice is not sought. She is easily overlooked. She lives in the shadows of the city, and people make assumptions because of that.

When she fights they expect faints and dodges, backstabs and traps. They are surprised by the direct attacks of whirling blades, a fighting style that relies on speed and uses no tricks. They fumble and they die.

She is her mother's daughter. Taught by firm hands and sure feet. Motivated by grief she has practiced until she is oiled precision and smooth strength.

Small and unarmored they underestimate her. Dark and fast she kills them, as she careens though the corridors one goal driving her forward.

Shianni

Maddi

Valora

I will find you 


	18. Skids

18\. Skids

She skids as she speeds around a corner to see a horrid tableau spread out before her. Nelaros stands foolishly defiant before five shemlen, sword raised as he tries to hold his ground.

A keening shriek rends the air as she hurtles down the hallway and belatedly she realizes she is the source.

The guards startled, shift their attention from the elven man in front of them, and her heart stops even as her body continues. He is there, his empty eyes assessing her as a threat before dismissing her.

She hears the thwack of Soris's crossbow behind her and the whiz of the bolt as it flies by to embed itself in a guard's chest. He falls as two more come charging at her. She races to meet them, blades rippling in a vicious dance.

Nelaros struggles to defend himself as the clash of fighting fills the air and the world outside her sword length is lost in blurred chaos. The first guard goes down easily. Her sword gets caught in his partner's armor, throwing her off balance and threatening her momentum. His blade flashes from above, she deflects the blow to the side with her dagger and darts in before he can react to open his throat.

She tears forward again, bloody knife clenched in her fist, fire dancing in her vision and burning through her veins. Nelaros has managed to take one guard down, but the captain is pressing him hard. With one brutal stroke he forces Nelaros off balance, and brings his sword back to finish him. She hears Soris shout, and her heart leaps as another bolt speeds past. It slams solidly into the armor on the captain's shoulder, knocking him back, but his sword still connects and Nelaros falls.

She is shrieking like the possessed as she lunges at him, feet lifting off the ground as she plows into his chest, inside the reach of his sword. He is knocked back, but retains his footing. Hate blazes in her core, flames blasting against the ice of his gaze, as she lifts her dagger and rams it to the hilt into his eye.


	19. My fault

19\. My fault

They crash to the floor; the shemlen twisting as he dies so that she ends up trapped beneath his armored body. Her fire gutters out, extinguished as her strength deserts her. She chokes back a sob.

Her throat is raw. Her eyes burning with unshed tears, as her breath comes in ragged gasps that tear at her chest.

Nelaros is dead. 


	20. He lives

Warning: From here on out its AU.

20\. He lives

The body on top of her is frantically pushed away, and she is pulled into strong arms, her mind numb to her surroundings. A hand lifts her chin, guiding her eyes up to see an impossible sight.

Nelaros's anxious face looks down at her, as he holds her tightly to him.

"Are you alright?" He demands voice frantic.

She stares at him stunned, unable to believe what she is seeing.

"Raya, are you hurt?" He tries again, his hands moving, searching her body for injury.

It is too much; he is alive. She twists in his hold and throws her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"No," she croaks, her throat clogged with emotion. "No, I'm not hurt."

He winces as he adjusts his hold on her.

"You scared the shit out of me." He breathes into her tresses.

"I thought you died." She mumbles back, her face damp, but then so is his as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Note: Sorry I've been gone for so long. Life got crazy.


	21. I'm not going to let you

21\. I'm not going to let you

Gathering the shattered pieces of her composure into a wearable mask, she pulls back to look at him.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to his shoulder and red-stained shirt. Her fingers flutter over the wound and her mask, not yet set, threatens to fracture once again.

"Its not that bad." He tells her, catching her hand.

But the wound is bleeding freely and the stain is spreading. Her mask slips.

"Soris," her voice cracks as she turns to look for him, "Soris, the healing potion we found..."

But Soris is already beside her, folding her searching hand around the bottle. She pulls her other from Nelaros' grip and rips the cork out. Liberally applying a quarter of the potion directly to the wound before handing the rest of it to the bemused Nelaros.

"Drink." She commands, rubbing her tingling fingers where some of the draught had splashed her.

"As the lady commands." He says, suppressing a smile, before downing the bottle's contents.

She watches intently, pulling his shirt away from the wound. The bleeding slows and then stops as the skin begins to knit together.

Nelaros bends down and gives her forehead a quick kiss. "I'm not going to die."

Her fingers tighten on his shirt, and her mask buckles before settling firmly in place.

She looks up, meeting his eyes "You're damned right you're not."

 _I'm not going to let you.  
_


	22. Corridors

22\. Corridors

They fight their way through the corridors. Her chest constricts with every corner they round and dead end they find. The castle's winding halls are a maze and she can feel time slipping away even as she rushes forward. Soon it will be too late.

Perhaps it is already too late. Nola's broken body is burned onto the inside of her eyelids.

Her sword sweeps and slashes as her feet pull her inexorably forward, round the next bend, down the next hall. Then she stands before the door—his door—bodyguard dead at her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Ice hits her then, a flash freeze that solidifies her joints, locking her in place. What will she find? Are they dead or alive? The uncertainty is paralyzing.

A warm hand on her back full of quiet strength steadies her. The ice shatters along with her indecision and she takes a steadying breath, fire once more alight in her eyes.

"On three"

In unison, they kick open the door splintering it and sending it crashing into the wall on the other side of its hinges. 


	23. Bruised

23\. Bruised

Her eyes are immediately drawn to the cluster of figures in the center of the room. Shianni's small form lies splayed on ground, pinned between two of Vaughan's-sniveling, bootlicking, shemlen – thugs. Vaughan himself stands over her, mouth twisted in a sneer of conquest as he adjusts his pants.

He starts at the slam of the door and for a moment his eyes hold panic. It fades as he sees them, contempt entering his gaze.

Contempt…and victory. The sneer returns to his face.

Her vision bleeds red.


	24. Kill Him

24\. Kill him

The shemlen steps back at the liquefied rage glowing in her eyes. Her weapons clenched in blood-spattered hands as she stalks forward, a red haze dancing in her vision. He might be trying to speak but she is past the point of words, blood ringing in her ears, magma surging through her veins. Her first strike is carving through the air before he finally understands his situation. Snatching a discarded sword from a nearby chair he manages at the last instant to block her blade's cleave from rending his throat.

She is on him, weapons hacking at his defenses, hungry and biting. Her fury adds power to her strikes but shreds her technique, leaving her off-balance.

Sensing an opportunity, he redoubles his efforts, his greater strength and longer reach enabling him to turn the tide and begin driving her back. Under the rain of heavy blows her dagger is knocked out of her hand and skitters across the floor.

With a roar, Vaughan drives forward. She blocks his strike by a hair's breath, her sword knocked out of position as she stumbles backward. Her guard is down, and she can see triumph pooling in his eyes. The next blow will decide it all.

Shianni's piercing shriek disrupts their skirmish, as she lunges from the ground and in a single swift, graceless movement slams the fallen dagger to the hilt in Vaughan's thigh.

Strangling a cry of pain, he whirls to face this new threat, rage mingling with disbelief on his face. For one heated moment he glares down at her, before the shrill voice in the back of his mind pierces his wrath and draws him back to the present. Eyes widening, he starts to turn...

But it is already too late.

She is well within his guard by the time his head turns back to face her. Her brush with defeat tempering her volcanic rage.

With his guard down it is child's play to slide her sword through his chest and into his heart.


	25. Its over

25\. Over

 _Its over.  
_  
His sword falls from his hands, clanging as it hits the polished stone floor of the keep.

 _Done._

She stares numbly, as his body topples backwards taking her still embedded sword with it.

A small part of her is horrified. The alienage may run red with blood for this. She will die for this, publicly and with great humiliation.

 _Finished_.

Shianni slowly pushes herself off the floor. The movement highlighting the bloodstains on her skirt.

Their eyes meet. Though her cousin's eyes are clear, and her gaze direct, the rest of her face is a mess of fresh bruises and blood, her nose clearly broken.

She takes two steps forward, embracing her injured kinswoman. Her earlier paralysis evaporating.

He is dead; he will never hurt anyone again.

This is justice.

 _It is over._


	26. Curtains

26\. Curtains

In the confusion of the next few moments, possible futures twine around them like gossamer curtains. They flutter in the following debate offering beguiling glimpses, and bleak flashes.

The choice is theirs.

Home, death and sacrifice.

Sunlight and sky, the hunt nipping at their heels.

Cold certainty and coy lure.

In the unfolding drama Nelaros finds his way to her side, their fingers tangling together.

"I'm with you. Whatever happens." He tells her, voice steady and eyes calm.

Note: This is the end for now. I have some epilogues kicking around in my head but they aren't ready to be uploaded and may never be. I hope you have all enjoyed this little read.


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